


Shadows On The Wall

by whitecrossgirl



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 17:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitecrossgirl/pseuds/whitecrossgirl
Summary: Jaime dies in the rubble under the Red Keep. However he doesn't fully go; stuck as a ghost haunting the Red Keep, Jaime is forced to watch the aftermath of the battle play out before he finds the one person that he doesn't deserve to look at again.





	Shadows On The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve not written any angst in a long time and this particular AU has great potential for it. I hope you enjoy it. Like everyone else; I hate the last episode but I need to work with it for this prompt. Also fair warning, when I write angst, I write angst; Enjoy. Also special thanks to @sassbewitchedmyass for her awesome support as always :)
> 
> Ghost & Living Person AU

Tyrion wasn’t sure how long he had knelt weeping at the sides of his siblings’ bodies. He knew their plan to save Cersei was nothing short of reckless stupidity, but he didn’t expect that Jaime would die too. Jaime was his big brother, strong, loyal, foolish, Jaime. Jaime was meant to live forever. But he didn’t.

“Tyrion?”

Tyrion’s head shot up as he watched the man step over the bricks and rubble without one of his footsteps touching a single brick. In the dim light, Tyrion could vaguely make out his features. The man looked just like – but he couldn’t be…

“Jaime?” Tyrion asked, looking down at the corpse and back up again. The body was definitely Jaime’s; golden hand and all. The man approaching him was also unmistakably Jaime; translucent yes, but still Jaime.

“It’s me. I don’t know why or how, but I’m here.” Jaime said, reaching out to touch Tyrion, his hand slipped through Tyrion’s shoulder. Tyrion however, only felt a slight chill on the area where Jaime touched him.

“Why?” Tyrion asked, aware of the childishness of his question, but it was a question he had to ask. “Why did any of this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Jaime replied, looking down at his and Cersei’s bodies. Their bodies were a visceral reminder of the mistakes he had made. “I should have never left Winterfell.”

“None of us should,” Tyrion said. It felt like a spell had been cast upon all of them; controlling their actions and everything that had happened. A spell of madness which had only been broken; leaving them with the repercussions and consequences of their actions.

“What will happen now?” Jaime asked and for once, with no answers, no plans, no schemes, strategies or ideas; Tyrion looked at Jaime and felt the truth in the next three words he spoke.

“I don’t know.”

As the days passed, Jaime spent his time drifting around the ruins of the Red Keep; watching as the rubble began to be cleared; bodies were pulled from the wreckage and through the windows, he could see the survivors in the city attempt to do the same. No one was seemingly fussed over who took the throne anymore; why did it matter? The seven kingdoms had been torn apart; the capital reduced to rubble and dust and all for a throne which had been melted by dragon fire anyway. None of it mattered anymore. The wheel had been broken but all that remained were scraps of a broken wheel.

In his now unlimited free time, Jaime explored more of his abilities as a ghost. He found that although he had some powers such as walking through walls and floors as well as flying; he was also limited to staying within the Red Keep. He was unable to touch anything or move anything, despite what the stories said about ghosts. However, he was able to turn himself invisible; a useful skill when the ruins of the Red Keep were surrounded by Unsullied and Northeners who’d survived the massacre.

Jaime spent most of his days visiting Tyrion in his cell; but with little information about the outer world and an unwillingness on both sides to talk about the previous few months, conversation was stilted and limited. At least it was until a month after the battle; when Tyrion had been informed that the surviving heads of the great houses were meeting in the Dragon Pit for both Tyrion and Jon’s trials and to decide upon the new monarch.

Yet only one visitor caught his eye. They had managed to clear and secure enough rubble that the visitors could stay in the Red Keep; it was a small wing located off the west water gardens but it was a roof, steady walls and floors and that was all that was needed by the visitors. Jaime had been drifting past one of the windows when he stopped and saw a flash of blue and gold.

Had his heart still been able to beat, it would have stopped at the sight of Brienne; pale, strong, resolute and beautiful. Instead, Jaime ensured he was invisible and turned away from the window. He had no right to look at her, he had no right to see her after all that he had done.

If anything, he didn’t deserve to see her ever again.

It didn’t feel right being back here. The last time she had been in the Red Keep had felt like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. Things had been almost simpler then, easier. The seven kingdoms had been at war but somehow, the war had been preferable to the so-called peace it had led to. She tried to focus on why she had been brought there; not just to protect Sansa; there were no dangers risking her anymore; but also to support Gendry, he was Lord of the Stormlands and Tarth was one of the few surviving houses after all the damage Stannis Baratheon had caused. They had named Bran as King and he had offered her a position in his Kingsguard or as part of Sansa’s Queensguard.

There was a time when that would have been what she wanted more than anything. Now it just reminded her of him. She had tried over the past two months to try to avoid thinking of him.

Easier said than done.

The Red Keep had been a place that had played a huge part of his life. It was here that he had earned his moniker of Kingslayer, here was where his children had been born, where two of them had died; where his sister descended into madness, where he chose to try for redemption, only to return here to her. Here was where he had died. It seemed that wherever she went in the Red Keep; there was a thought or memory of him there. In fact, it sounded strange but sometimes it felt like he was still here. Like he was in the Red Keep with her. All she would have to do would be to turn around at the right moment or enter a certain chamber and he would be there; alive, happy and smiling at her. But he never was.

He was a coward. He was dead, he was in no physical danger but he was too afraid to speak to her. Too afraid to face the consequences of what he had done. He hadn’t just hurt her; he had broken her heart, left her sobbing in the freezing cold, tricked her into letting her guard down, into thinking he was different from the other men who had hurt and humiliated her; only to be the worst of them all. Had he physically tore her heart from her chest and trod it into the snow and slush, it would have been better than that.

Jaime wished he could say he had done it out of some twisted form of care; like he had tried to break her heart so that she wouldn’t be as upset when he had inevitably been killed; to turn her love and care into hatred and disgust in order for his death to be a cause of celebration and not tears. But that was a lie. He had merely been acting selfish, hateful and she had been the one to suffer for it.

As much as Jaime tried to avoid Brienne, he also kept a close watch over her as the days passed. She had chosen to stay in the capital; for a time. However it wasn’t because she was a part of the Small Council or because she had joined the Kingsguard; instead she had stayed to help with the rebuilding of the Red Keep and supported rebuilding efforts in the city. Jaime knew that she was still conflicted over what she wanted to do with her life now. Had he stayed with her; that wouldn’t have been so difficult. Before the letter came, he had considered proposing to her; returning to Tarth or remaining in Winterfell by her side; back then, he wished to be by her side forever. Look at how long that had lasted.

If he had stayed, if he had made a different choice, they could have done that. They could have gotten married, they could have travelled the seven kingdoms and beyond, they could have returned to Tarth; they could have had children. He always like the idea of several children, boys and girls, just a loud, rambunctious home of happy children. But no; he had to be a stupid coward.

He kept his watch over Brienne, made sure that she was eating and drinking, that she was getting enough sleep. That she was training, keeping her skills sharp. He tried to ignore the invisible weight she was carrying on his shoulders or how he heard her cry at night. He hadn’t been able to bear watching her record his story; had he been able to, he would have yelled, screamed and wept at that last line. One that would be seen as tragically honourable but was in actuality, one of the most dishonourable moments of his life.

Died protecting his queen.

No. He had died a mindless idiot. He knew that. He was there when it happened after all. Part of him wished he could have gone back to that night; he would have shaken himself stupid and climbed back into bed beside Brienne; took her in his arms and refused to let her go. But he didn’t. He hadn’t. And he had all of eternity to drift around this godsforsaken place and reflect on it.

Jaime listed around Brienne’s bedchamber; he knew she wouldn’t be back for some time and he knew he shouldn’t have been in there but he had selfishly wanted to feel close to her. Although he couldn’t touch it, he imagined he could feel the soft fabric of the tunic, the cold stones of the unlit fireplace, the sharp metal of her sword. Oathkeeper. She had named the sword for him and his honour, his hopes for honour. Yet another oath he had broken.

Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man Without Honour.

Jaime was so lost in his thoughts, he barely managed to make himself invisible in time as the door opened. Brienne entered the room but unlike the other times, she didn’t seem to be hiding her emotions. Instead, tears were slipping down her face as she sat on the edge of the bed, unbeknownst to her, inches away from where Jaime hovered. He had wanted to leave but found himself unable to move. Now that he was this close to Brienne, he saw the effects the past now three months had had on her.

She was even paler now, her drained face highlighting the dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she hadn’t been sleeping much. Her eyes seemed faded and drained, like the life had been sucked from them. Although she seemed as strong as ever, it seemed the invisible weight had bore her shoulders down into an almost permanent slump. They were also shaking. She wasn’t just crying, she was sobbing. She buried her face in her hands and Jaime felt like an intruder on her grief. He jumped when she spoke.

“Stupid. Reckless, stupid woman. Reckless, stupid man. How could this have happened? Why now? Why now, after he’s gone? Haven’t I had enough to deal with?” Brienne’s questions stumbled out with her sobs and Jaime wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Once again, he longed to reach out, to touch her, to try and offer some comfort to her, as useless as his comfort would have been. Instead, like the coward he was, he stepped back and did nothing.

Jaime was still trying to work out what Brienne had meant by her questioning, when she suddenly stood up and walked to the mirror, walking through Jaime and shivering as she did. Brienne glanced around, trying to work out why she had felt the sudden chill, before she turned her attention back to the mirror in the corner of the room.

“How can I do this by myself?” Brienne whispered as she stood in front of the mirror. She was angry at Jaime for so many things; yet she found that despite all the heartache and anguish and pain; she didn’t hate him. She should hate him but she just… didn’t. Now, more than ever, she just wished that he was still alive. Even if they never got together again, even if they spent their lives apart, if he was just here for this, if he only knew…

Jaime’s mouth fell open as Brienne turned sideways and lifted the bottom of her loose tunic. He hadn’t noticed it when she had been sitting, but now that she stood in front of the mirror; he could see the soft curve and swell of her stomach; showing the consequences of their time together; the repercussions of his actions didn’t just affect the two of them anymore.

“You’re pregnant.” Jaime spoke without seeing and Brienne dropped her tunic and looked around the room. That voice, it sounded just like…

“Jaime?” Brienne asked. Mad. That was it. The grief and events of the past few months and her pregnancy had made her go mad. It couldn’t have been Jaime. Jaime had died over a month ago. They had burned his and his sister’s bodies and dumped the ashes in Blackwater Bay.

This was his moment. His chance to reveal himself. Although he couldn’t physically atone for his mistakes or help her with her pregnancy, this was his chance to do right. To be honourable for her. They had conceived a child. Their child. A new, innocent and beautiful life to come into the world. A child who had been conceived of love, despite their father’s actions afterwards. His and Brienne’s child. He could reveal himself, speak to Brienne, beg her forgiveness and try to put things right between them as best he could.

Instead Jaime turned and drifted out through the wall.


End file.
